A Family Perspective
by Vaneria Potter
Summary: A series of One-Shots. Every main character has a story behind them. Many have families and friends. All have someone who has helped them become what they are. The untold stories of those who have helped to shape their lives.
1. Elizabeth Masen

_Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Wish I did, though._

_Summary: Every character has a story behind them. Most of them have families. The untold stories of the ones who helped to shape their lives. A series of One-Shots._

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Elizabeth Masen

I do not know if Doctor Cullen is truly an Angel, or something else entirely. I do not know _how_ I know, but I do know that he can save my Edward.

The fever has left me weak, and my insistence on caring for my son has made me even more so, but I have strength enough to speak when Doctor Cullen enters on his Rounds.

This earth-bound Angel of Mercy reassures me that he will do all that he can, as I am sure he has said to countless others before me, others who have loved ones struck by the Influenza epidemic.

It is not enough. He will do his human best, as he does with all of those who come under his wonderous care, but it is not enough.

I am a proud woman, but when it comes to my family, I am not above begging. He must save my son! What others cannot do, whatever it is that sets him apart from others, that is what he _must_ do to save my Edward!

Doctor Cullen looks startled, and for a moment I dispair, but then he slowly nods his agreement. I relax in the knowledge that my son will live, will have the chance to attend a collage. He will fall in love and one day marry a wonderful girl who will love, challenge and complete him.

No one can blame me for wanting my son to live, especially so soon after losing my husband to the Influenza Pandemic.

I do not know how Doctor Cullen will accomplish this, but I find that I do not care. Some may say that it sounds like making a pact with the devil, but I cannot believe that. No one as kind and compassionate as Doctor Cullen could ever serve evil. I cannot believe that such a beautiful, caring soul, who makes it his business to_ save_ lives, would never deliberately damn them.

I am either the best of mothers, or the very, very worst.

I do not know what Doctor Cullen is, but I know that he will save my son. I see a white light, and hear my husband calling. Forcing my eyes open a last time, I see Doctor Cullen lift my beloved son, and I smile.

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A/N: Just in time for Christmas, too! It's December 25th Down Under, and way too humid for snow, but consider this a Christmas gift. If it is still the 24th where you are, follow my sisters example and read it while everyone else is busy.

_This is my first venture into the Twilight fandom, and I am focusing on very minor characters, so some feedback on how I've captured them would be very much appreciated. The next instalment should be up tomorrow or the next day, depending on how late I get back._

_Merry Christmas (or whatever you celebrate)!  
__Nat._


	2. Jade Whitlock

_Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Wish I did, though. Sadly, Santa did not see fit to grant that particular Christmas wish._

_Summary: Every character has a story behind them. Most of them have families. The untold stories of the ones who helped to shape their lives. A series of One-Shots._

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Jade Whitlock

I will never see my son again.

I have three children, but this is the last time I will see my charismatic oldest.

John and I were so angry when he left to join the Confederate Army at seventeen. We taught our children that it is wrong to lie, even just about your age, but it was an anger born mostly of the fear that this war would claim his life.

Little Opal, my innocent youngest, cried for a week when she discovered that he had left. Ruby, my perceptive second-born, only frowned and looked concerned.

Anger and worry aside, I cannot deny that I am very proud of my son. His charisma and leadership skills bore him through the ranks until he became a Major at the age of twenty! Such a thing is nearly unheard of, and despite my fretting because his is now always on the front lines, I am near fit to bursting with joy and pride.

Jasper had managed to get a few days of leave as the army passed through on their way to Galveston. I found it hard to keep my anger in the face of my beloved son's conviction that what he was doing was right, and chose to enjoy what time we had left.

It is very improper to show much physical affection in public, but I pull Opal nearer to me and stand close to my husband as Jasper and him men move out. I know that John is confused by my display, but he does not question it.

On my husband's other side, Ruby lowers her arm from waving farewell and catches my eye. Somehow, she knows, as I do, that this is the last time we will see him.

I know that as I bid my son farewell, I am also saying goodbye to my dreams of seeing my son return, victorious, and settle down. I will not introduce him to eligible ladies, or see him in a career that does not include violence.

I will not see him marry the lively southern girl that I envision as the perfect match to his calm demeanour, or see the blonde, grey-eyed grandchildren that will be the next generation of Whitlocks.

Ruby has always insisted that Jasper was meant for great things, which I have never disagreed with. Of course, all mothers believe that their children and the most wonderful beings to grace the earth, but I know that Jasper truly is destined for greatness.

That did not mean that Ruby's often-voiced conviction didn't cause such an argument when I feared that such insistence was what prompted Jasper to enlist in the first place, but I cannot refute her claim.

I will never see my son again, but I know he is destined for great things. I can only hope that somewhere along the line, he will find happiness amid the trials ahead of him.

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A/N: We have very little information about Jasper's human life, or his human family, so I've had to invent the names. Hopefully I haven't done too badly. As always, **Constructive** criticism is very much appreciated, but flames are laughed at. Loudly.  
This chapter is dedicated to my twin, Sally, who died on 26th December, 2005.

_Thanks, Nat._


	3. Clarissa Hale

_Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously.  
Summary: See previous chapters._

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Clarissa Hale

It was supposed to be the second-happiest day of my life, but all I can do, all I have done in the past weeks, is cry for our loss.

People say that the happiest day of a woman's life is the day that she marries. The second happiest day is when she watches her children marry.

When I first envisioned my future son-in-law, I thought of a tall, strong man with merry eyes and dark hair. I wanted someone who could both protect my daughter and make her laugh. Someone gentle enough to calm her fiery temper, and mischievous enough to keep her on her toes. Someone who would love her with all he was, as much as she would love him, who could appreciate her beauty and personality both.

Royce King was the ideal match for my Rosalie, socially and financially, and even if he only wanted her as a trophy-wife, she would have been happy with all the children that he would have given her.

Roses are the most precious and beautiful of flowers, despite their thorns, so it was an obvious choice to name Rosalie, my daughter, the most precious and beautiful of women, after them.

Rosalie was beautiful on the day I dressed her in her prettiest clothing, did her hair, and sent her to the bank with my husband's "forgotten" lunch.

Rosalie was beautiful when she left the house for the last time, going to visit her friend Vera, glowing with joy at the chance to see her godson, Henry.

The morning that we found her missing, with nothing but Rosalie's ripped coat with its scattered brass buttons, signs of a struggle and so much blood half way between Vera's house and ours was the day that everything in the world turned ugly and dark.

They say that you will never truly appreciate what you have, until it is gone. I wanted my family to have a secure future, so I sacrificed Rosalie's chance for happiness and a loving marriage, in exchange for our own social elevation.

Only now, when it is too late, do I realize that I would give up all the wealth and prestige in the world, just to have my daughter back.

My daughter, my golden joy, is gone. I cannot even dream of what might have been through Royce, for he was found murdered yesterday, like several of his friends over the past fortnight.

I cannot transfer my love to the child that Rosalie so desperately wished for, her dream that will never come true, for there will be no such child.

I cannot rail against or swear revenge upon the unknown monster who took my Rosalie's life, for no trace was ever found.

I am still young enough to bear more children, if God sees fit to grant them after how miserably I failed Rosalie. If He does see fit, I swear that I will do better by them than I did by her. I have learned my lessons about what is important in life, though it took my daughter's death for me to realize it.

My daughter is dead, and I cannot change the past, but it is time for me to stop weeping, and to become a better person than the woman who cared only for her social standing.

It will be hard, for change does not come easily, but I will do it for Rosalie.

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_A/N: Trying something a bit different this time. Elizabeth and Jade knew that they probably wouldn't see their children again, because of the Epidemic and the Civil War. Rosalie's parents thought that she was weeks away from marrying and therefore raising their social status. Losing a child tends to be a wake-up-call regarding Life's Priorities, and I wanted to reflect that._

_I may do Pastor Cullen next, Mrs. Brandon. I'm also thinking of doing Sue Clearwater at some point. Let me know if there is anyone in particular that you want to see._

_As always, reviews are very much appreciated, and flames will be laughed at. Then used for roasting chestnuts, even if I don't have an open fireplace...  
One benefit of living alone is that there is no one to yell at you to shut up when singing Christmas Carols._

_Thanks, Nat_


	4. Charlie Swan

_Disclaimer: Not Mine. Do we have to go over this again?  
Summary: See previous chapters._

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Charlie Swan

I love my daughter, even if I'm not good at showing it.

Renee left when Bella was barely a year old, and all in all I saw her for less than two of the next sixteen years. I was nervous as all Hell when she called and asked if I minded her coming to live with me. It's a good thing that she asked over the phone, because I was doing a very undignified happy-dance at the news.

The thing was, I had no idea about living with a teenaged girl. I told everyone I knew about Bella coming, in the hopes that they could give me advice. I didn't bother asking Renee; a slab of granite could see that Bella was the parent in their relationship. In the end, all I could do was my uncertain best.

Bella takes after me the most; quiet, a need for occupation, happiest when left to our own devices, but so very passionate with our emotions. Whether it is love, grief or anything else, we feel with all that we are.

I know what most people think of me, but you don't get to be Chief of Police without serious observational skills. I knew that there was something wrong with the Cullen's, but Bella seemed so happy when she was with Edward, so I let it go, despite every instinct that screamed at me to get her as far away from them as possible.

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I'm not used to failing at protecting people, but I failed Bella. The person who meant the most to me in all the world, and I failed her miserably. Leaving her in the woods was the least he did to her, and he broke far more than my daughter's heart that day.

I've seen some bad things during my years in the force, but none of it could compare to the empty look on Bella's face as Sam Uley carried her out of the woods.

I'm a cop, and a fairly peaceful man, but I had never wanted to shoot someone so badly as that moment. Edward Cullen was very lucky that he wasn't within a hundred yards of my gun.

Bella is hopeless at lying, and I knew that she wasn't automatically better after I threatened to send her to Jacksonville with Renee. Still, she seemed to be trying to recover and was actually making an effort at life. I was thrilled that Bella wanted to stay, and that Jake was slowly picking up the pieces.

I was scared out of my mind when I came home from Harry's Funeral, to find a panicking Jacob and a message saying that Alice Cullen needed her help. Bella was an adult, and had gone of her own free will, so the best I could do was call a few of my counterparts in LA and ask them to keep an eye out. I spent three hours calming Jake down, and then all I could do was sit back and worry for the next three days.

I had never been so relieved when the Cullen kids pulled up with Bella, even if the sight of HIM carrying her, half-dead and incoherent with exhaustion, gave me horrible flashbacks to the night he left her.

The first few years after Renee left, I would have taken her back in an instant, so I knew that Bella would forgive the boy for what he put her through, and there was nothing I could do about it. Encouraging her bond with Jake and making sure that Cullen knew that not everyone was as forgiving of his actions was the only thing that made me feel less helpless.

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I couldn't deny her when Edward asked for my blessing, even if I did have a few misgivings, and I smiled when she asked me not to let her trip as I walked her down the isle.

I can't say I was surprised when Bella came back from her honeymoon and was promptly quarantined with some exotic sickness. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn Bella was the lovechild of Luck and Murphy; everything bad just seemed to gravitate her way.

I was suspicious when I was introduced to Renesme. There was very little of Edward in her and a lot of Bella, and as much as I pitied the girl for her name, it was an obvious mix of Renee and Esme. Edward only met Bella two years ago, and I couldn't see Edward's "brother" naming his daughter after some lady he didn't know. Still, I didn't have any other theories, so I let it go.

When Jake turned into a Werewolf, and told me that the Cullens were vampires, I knew that there was something big going on, and that Bella was at the centre of it. I wanted to jump in and protect her, but in these cases, the fewer people that know, the better.

I could never abandon Bella, so I asked for a need-to-know basis. This is something that I can't help with, and Bella and her in-laws need to focus on whatever is coming, not feel guilty over hiding things from me.

I love my daughter, even if I'm not good at showing it, but the best I can do is let her live her life, and be there when she needs me.

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A/N: I don't think Charlie got enough credit in the books. My Dad and I have a similar relationship; he wasn't there for a lot of my childhood (his job requires a lot of travel), I have a very self-sufficient personality, and we are happier going for a walk or reading in the lounge room, than talking about stuff, but that doesn't make him an indifferent parent. I always thought that Charlie loved Bella; he just wasn't sure how to show it.

_As always, Reviews are very much appreciated.  
Thanks, Nat._


	5. John Cullen

_Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Wish I did, though._

_Summary: Every character has a story behind them. Most of them have families. The untold stories of the ones who helped to shape their lives. A series of One-Shots._

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Pastor John Cullen

My son is lost to me.

Lost, and I cannot even hope for a reunion in heaven. Only now, when it is too late, can I see what my actions have wrought and cost me.

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I loved my wife from the moment we met, and will love her with my last breath. When we learned that Anne was with child, my heart burst with joy. When she died bringing Carlisle, named for the town where Anne grew up, into the world, my heart turned to stone.

Even from the first, it was obvious that Carlisle had my hair and eyes, my height and build, but the rest of him was all Anne. Her compassion, and quick mind, her fine, angelic features that had the opposite sex falling over each other just to be near him.

Perhaps it was this, a visible reminder of what his birth had cost me that led me to be so harsh with my son, so cold and stern. I do not look for the source of my attitude, because I fear what I will find.

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I am a man of the Church, an Anglican Minister, and although we all are equal in the eyes of the Lord, there can be no tolerance for the servants of Satan, and we must destroy them wherever they may be found.

I hunted them all, with all that I was. I did not pay as much attention to my parish as I should, and even less to my son, focusing not on the preservation of good, but the destruction of evil. Witches, Vampires, Werewolves, Demonic Possession, and anything else of the supernatural. If they were accused, I would play jury, judge and executioner. No excuses or explanations, and no mercy.

When I grew older, and my strength began to wane, I finally started to remember that I had a son, and began to so much as acknowledge his existence, but only so that I had someone to lead the raids in my place.

I saw Carlisle's reluctance to take this role, his peaceful nature finding death or violence nothing short of abhorrent, but I ignored it. Again, I saw Anne's compassion shining through in the more thorough trials, the fewer convictions and more frequent absolutions. Instead of praising him for the show of mercy, I called him weak and reluctant to do what was necessary.

We quarrelled far too often over my son's shows of mercy, his unshakable faith in the good of all who lived on God's Earth. I will forever regret, would give anything to take back my words on the night that I sent him out to investigate a rumour of a Vampire nest. The night I sent my son to his death.

Carlisle had stormed out of the house after our latest fight, and I had spent the time until his scheduled return not praying for his safety, but preparing further cutting remarks to continue our argument. When I heard the pounding on the door, I prepared to scold him as I opened in, only to be confronted with the sight of Carlisle's badly hurt second-in-command.

I cannot claim to have loved my son as much as I should have. Does the Good Lord not tell us that our family, our children, are the greatest of our gifts? I had never understood or paid much attention to Carlisle, but I had never wanted to lose him. I saw Richard's grave face, instantly knowing the news that he was reluctant to speak, and another part of me died.

To hear of my son's demise was a terrible thing, but even worse was to come. The rumour had been correct, a coven of Vampires had been hiding in the sewers, and had attacked the brave men sent to destroy them. Carlisle was the first to be attacked by the vampire, before it fled, but when the remains of the party returned to collect their fallen, Carlisle's body was not to be found.

My son had been bitten, and cursed to become one of the Damned. In spite of all of the good that he had done in his life, my son would now burn in Hell.

Tomorrow, I will go to the sewer where the vampires were hidden, and purge it with fire and holy water, until no trace remains. But today, I will mourn my son, who I sent to his death, and Eternal Damnation.

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A/N: Anglican ministers are called Pastors, rather than Reverend or Father.

_It is fairly clear that Carlisle's father had taken a long-jump over the line between 'righteousness' and 'fanatical', but losing your only child, with the probability that they will become the very thing you hate, would definitely be enough to prompt a bit of self-reflection. I am also convinced that you don't get that obsessed without some kind of catalyst._

_I'm not entirely happy with the way this chapter turned out, but I couldn't find any way to make it better. Hopefully it didn't turn out too bad._

_Next up will probably be Sue Clearwater. Being the mother of two living legends has got to be tough, especially when people turning into Spirit Wolves was the very thing that broke your daughter's heart._

_As always, Constructive Critisim is welcomed, and flames are largely ignored, or passed onto anyone who has ever wanted to show intolerant witch-hunters what it feels like to be chased with torches and sharp pointy objects._

_Thanks, Nat_


	6. Sue Clearwater

_Disclaimer: Do I look like I am fabuously rich as a result of owning Twilight? Didn't think so._

_Summary: See Previous Chapters_

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Sue Clearwater

People say that it's hard; being a spirit-wolf, but believe me when I say that it is a thousand times worse to be the parent of one spirit-wolf, let alone two of them.

Knowing that not only will they face our tribe's most dangerous enemy, but that they are the first line of defence, if not actively seeking them out, is a terrible thing, horrible beyond the ability of words to describe.

Knowing that although you would happily die to protect your children, you would be forced to stand helpless and watch as they fought for their lives is every mother's worst nightmare.

We are taught to hate the Cold Ones for what they are. The Cullens cannot help their nature, and are better than most by keeping to their "Vegetarian" diet of animal blood. I do not hate them for what they are, but for what they have done. What they have caused to happen.

If the Cold Ones had not come, then the youth of La Push would never have been forced to change.

I should have forced my husband to eat healthier, but if the Cold Ones had not come, Harry would not have had a heart attack when he saw his children phase for the first time.

Sam would never have imprinted on Emily, and my Leah would not be forced to endure such heartbreak when her fiancé left her for the cousin my daughter once loved as a sister.

She would not have grown bitter and unhappy, and Seth would not be so upset, angry as only a brother can be, knowing that there is nothing he can do to help his sister. He was only upset over Leah's grief, however; the Council and the rest of the Pack are still giving Seth and Quil the Younger odd looks for being so enthusiastic about the Change.

No mother wants to see her children in pain. The fact that said children sporadically turn into giant wolves, with giant appetites to match, is just icing on the badly made cake.

I understand Bella wanting to protect her daughter, though everything in me screams that it is un-natural, but it was for the child that dozens upon dozens of Cold Ones flocked to our lands.

They came, and the ranks of the Spirit Wolves grew to numbers not seen since Taha Aki, swelling to including boys as young as ten, and even a few girls coming down with sudden fevers, which cleared up as soon as the Cold Ones cleared off.

It was because of Renesme (and who was sadistic enough to saddle an innocent child with a name like _that_?) that I feared I would never see my children again, when they followed Jake as he split from the La Push pack, unwilling to kill the unborn 'abomination'.

I don't guilt-trip my children often, and hated it when my own mother did so with me in my own youth. However, when they won't come home even after you pour on everything up to and including I-Spent-Nine-Months-And-Twelve-Agonizing-Hours-Bringing-You-Into-This-World, you know things are bad.

It didn't help that Sam's attempt involved calling Leah by his old pet-name for her, which could only make her angry, but I digress. That kind of maternal fear is something I would not wish on anyone.

Being a Spirit-Wolf is hard, and a great responsibility, but being the parent of one is far worse.

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A/N: I am nowhere near as happy with this chapter as I am with others, but I couldn't really find anything else to put in, as nothing else we know about Sue (she took Harry's place on the Council and married Charlie) really has to do with her children.

_As always, Constructive Criticism is appreciated, and Flames are ignored._

_Thanks, Nat_


	7. Hope O'Brian

_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Nor am I rich enough to be worth suing as a result of not owning it._

_Summary: See previous chapters._

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HOPE O'BRIAN

No mother should watch her children die.

It was my fault, if you think about it. A young mother, living alone, with only her two children, will inevitably be the target of trouble. Witch-hunters, dependant on actually _finding_ a witch if they want to get paid, are not above causing trouble and blaming it on some poor innocent.

The priests say that beauty is a curse, a punishment for our sins. I do not know what I am being punished for, but with the trouble it has now caused, my looks can only be called a curse.

A Witch-hunter came through our village, and thought to impose upon me, believing that I would bow in the face of his profession. My beloved husband died only months before our twins were born, and there was never room in my heart for another man. I would not shame myself or my family by offering my body like some common whore.

In hindsight, I should have swallowed my pride and done so.

It is widely known that I do not care what is said about me, but there is little that I will not do to protect Jane and Alec. One does not provoke a wolf defending her cubs, nor me in my protective wrath.

The Witch-hunter was no fool, and my soldier husband taught me to defend myself. My name is good in the town, and reports that I was an evil-doer would only be laughed at. He knew this.

So he struck at my weak point. My children.

Strange things do sometimes happen when Jane is upset, or the rare occasion that Alec becomes angry, (Thank God that one of them inherited my temper! My John's spirit shone through our daughter, and that is quite enough!) but that is no cause to call them devil-spawn! My children are not witches, or close to Satan, even if the priest does get an oddly business-like look around that Italian nobleman who keeps showing interest in them!

But the hunter cried witch-craft, and they took my children away.

I fought the constables, and tried to run after the prison-wagon. I screamed, and protested their innocence. I pulled Alec behind me when he tried to make them go away, and tried to sooth Jane as she sobbed in fear. But I failed, and they arrested me for trying to 'stand in the way of justice'.

You pick up a few things, being the wife of a soldier, and I told them what I thought of their justice. Perhaps not my best move, as while some of the guards looked impressed, it did not stop them from taking my twins.

Now, I stand in the square, chained fit to hold Sampson, forced to watch as the demons wearing the faces of townspeople stack wood around my children.

Jane is crying, and shouting that she hopes they someday feel the pain that she does. Alec is trying to reach his twin, his only goal to protect her. Then they light the fires, and my voice rises to join theirs in screams of pain and fear.

But God is merciful, for he has sent an angel to deliver them.

Suddenly, a man stands on the platform, shining in the harsh sun, and his face fearsome to terrify the legions of Hell. A woman is near him, protecting another man as he reaches through the flames to pull my children away, both of them sparkling in the sunlight.

I know that they are beyond saving, but as the trio of angels disappear, taking Jane and Alec with them, faster than the eye can follow, I know that they will be safe in Heaven.

It is my fault, and I will mourn them the rest of my life, but at least I can take comfort in that they are in a better place than I could provide.

No mother should watch her children die, but they will be happy in their new existence, and that is enough.

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A/N: Jane and Alec have always interested me, so I'm branching out a little. Bella's only interactions with the Volturi Twins is when she thinks that the Volturi are about to kill them, but I firmly believe that they have another side to them.

_As always, Constructive Criticism is appreciated, and Flames should not be around Vampires. Especially not these ones._

_Thanks, Nat._


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